


It's a wonderful Christmas

by Earths_roots_grow_up



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Romance, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21933058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earths_roots_grow_up/pseuds/Earths_roots_grow_up
Summary: Russia has been with Prussia for a very long time - he loves him, but living together is not always easy. During a Christmas party hosted by France, he vaguely wonders: what would have happened, if he made a different choice in the past?And something very strange happens.A small "It's a Wonderful Life" inspired ficlet about relationships becoming stale and how some old fashioned Christmas magic can make you realize that you already have all you ever wanted.
Relationships: France/Russia (Hetalia), Prussia/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	It's a wonderful Christmas

Gilbert was being a brat. It's not like being 15 minutes late was the end of the world, but the way he was acting, one would think the whole freaking planet was about to explode.  
"I can't believe you’re still not ready." Prussia growled. Russia took a deep breath and focused on his tie.

"You knew we were supposed to leave at 6 p.m.! You seriously needed to change your shirt three fucking times? Why didn't you plan your outfit yesterday?"

"Because," said Ivan, trying to stay calm, "I never do that. I want to wear what feels right at the moment. Not everyone is a robot and plans their clothing days in advance."

"A robot?!" Oh goddammit. He wanted to avoid a row, but there was no way he was getting out if it now. The worst part was that under Prussia's aggressive tone there was a trace of hurt feelings. Ivan tried to push the guilt away - he was not the person who started this whole mess. He was not the unreasonable one.

"It's just a figure of speech." He still attempted to make an excuse. "I'm ready now. We can go."

"Awesome." Came the answer but it didn't sound like Gilbert was feeling awesome at all.

***

They made it to France's Christmas party 20 minutes late and although Russia still had some leftovers of atheism clinging to his mind, he ended up begging all the saints that no one commented on it.

"Oh wow, Pru-- I mean, Bundeswehr! You’re late! That almost never happens." Said Italy the moment they entered the extravagantly decorated house. Prussia laughed sharply and gave Ivan a dirty look.

Well shit.

The evening was not a total disaster yet. France really went all out - food and alcohol were great, and an incredibly flashy Christmas tree stood in the middle of the living room. It was about three meters tall and the golden star at the top touched the ceiling. Branches were almost breaking under the weight of silver, blue and red decorations. It seemed someone threw an industrial container of glitter at the thing. Russia was charmed by how loud and yet still somehow elegant it was. France always knew how to thread the line between extravagant and daub masterfully.

"Francis, this tree is beautiful." He commented when France himself came to greet them.

"Thank you so much, I'm glad you appreciate it! And you, Prusse? Do you like it?" Asked France, giving a couple of pecks to the air next to Ivan's cheeks. He smelled like a flowery garden, and looked even better than the tree. His suit was also quite loud, covered in little crystals that reflected the light and brought the meadow embroidered on the material to life. It was so colorful and glamorous that Russia couldn't tear his eyes away.

"It's... well, it's a tree, that's for sure." Said Prussia, looking at the decorations with skepticism.

"What an astute observation. I thought you liked Christmas trees, Prusse? Didn't they originate at your place?"

"They did and I do like them! It's just that this one looks like a gay unicorn threw up on it."  
Russia winced and quickly looked at France, but thank God their host didn't seem insulted. He just laughed and it sounded like someone ringing a thousand little silver bells.

"That's exactly the look I was going for! Though I understand that's not quite your thing? But I'm glad you like it, Russie."

"I do. Also, I must say, you look amazing."

"Thank you! I had the suit made for this occasion. I though a flowery meadow would be nice in the dead of winter, no? A bit of sun in this gloomy cold December."

They talked with France for a couple of minutes longer, but then he had to leave to entertain other guests. Prussia and Russia were left alone, looking around and trying to locate the wine bar.

"You didn't tell me I look amazing today." Noticed Prussia after a moment. Ivan hesitated. He looked Prussia over - he definitely looked handsome, as always. He had those incredibly good looks that were intimidating to some people, with his sharp cheekbones and colors so fair he looked almost unearthly. The effect was even stronger because he chose to wear a completely black suit with a military cut.  
It was strange, in a way. He looked handsome but not pleasant nor pretty the way Francis did. France was beautiful in a completely different way - warm and welcoming, with his happy colors and the sweet smell of flowers. Prussia smelled like iron and gun powder, right now barely masked by the musky scent of Hugo Boss' Bottled Night. A heavy, overwhelming smell for a difficult, overwhelming man.  
Russia cleaned his throat.

"You look amazing, of course. I didn't say it because I thought it was obvious." He said and was relieved when Prussia didn't seem to notice the hesitation. He smiled and flushed a bit.

"You look good too. I'm gonna go for a smoke and after we can have a drink, okay?" He said and moments later disappeared on the terrace. Ivan couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. In reality, he didn't think Gilbert looked amazing today at all. He chose to wear those big, bulky combat boots with the elegant suit and it was just a terrible combination. Who does that, anyway?  
Every Nation in the room looked happy and festive and Gilbert looked almost like a gravedigger. A weird half-gravedigger half-soldier and it was depressing.  
Russia went straight for the wine bar. The selection was very fancy, as expected. France would rather die than throw a party with poor wine supply.

"Ah, let me give you a glass!" He almost jumped when Francis seemingly teleported right behind his back. He began pouring Ivan a drink. "In a moment or two there will be music. I decided we should have less carols and more traditional, court music: waltzes, minuets, musettes. I know it's not very traditional, but I just feel like dancing some old dances tonight." He explained.

"That's actually a great idea," answered Russia. "It's been literal ages since I danced a good musette. It seems appropriate."

"I knew you would understand." France smiled. "Now excuse me, I need to tend to other guests." And he was gone again.

Russia sipped on his wine an admired the Christmas tree when first musette began to play. He immediately recognized it and felt a rush of nostalgia come over him. They played exactly the same music 300 years ago during a similar ball, also at France's place. It was so long ago, but he remembered it clear as day.  
It was the first time he showed up between other Nations with his beard shaved off, in his new, incredibly stuffy European clothes that Peter the Great pretty much sewn him into. He hated it, felt the stiff material of the collar almost choking him. It was too hot and yet at the same time his face, completely naked for the first time since his adolescence, felt too cold. He wanted to relax and exude an aura of confidence and sophistication, but he felt like a pig masquerading as a parade horse. He was a fraud, he wasn't really European and couldn't help thinking everyone knew.  
Then he saw Prussia and France talking to each other, both looking so incredibly well and comfortable in their own skins. And handsome. They were like night and day - France wore a powdery pink tail-coat, richly embroidered with his golden hair pinned up in a very complicated, yet lovely style. Prussia kept his hair cut short - not conforming to the age's fashion trends - and wore a military uniform. He was one of the very few Nations who did not put on civil clothing for the ball. The uniform was well decorated with shiny medals, but it still looked somewhat rough, almost spartan, next to France's extravagant outfit. But it suited him well. The uniform emphasized his sharp, handsome facial features and well-toned body. Russia found himself fixating on him, heart pounding in his ears.

"Russia! You look... different." said Prussia, when he noticed him. "But nice. Really nice." Ivan felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. Then France added:

"Agreed! Who would have known that there was such a pretty face under all that hair? I'm glad we got to see it now." That's when the musette started and Russia felt so happy and light, that he found the courage to ask for a dance.  
It was a quick calculation and the decision seemed obvious to him. France was a better dancer, he was known for his grace and a good sense of rhythm. Prussia, not so much. He knew his steps by heart, but was always too stiff during his movements, almost as if he was marching during a parade, not dancing to beautiful music.  
Russia asked Prussia to dance and he accepted.

Now, standing in front of France's over the top Christmas tree and sipping on fine wine, he found himself wondering: what would have happened if he asked France instead? Of course, he knew that was a ridiculous thought. One simple decision like this does not decide the fate of an entire relationship. And yet he wondered.  
A large, blue-silver-red Christmas bauble rotated very slowly on the tree branch, reflecting the lights and caught Ivan's gaze. He could see his own face reflecting in the colorful glass, weirdly misshapen and far away. He stared, almost hypnotized by the eerie effect.

"What are you looking at?" He almost jumped again. For the second time this evening France managed to approach him way too quietly. Ivan needed a moment to shake the weird trance-like feeling off.

"Just admiring the tree some more." He answered with a smile. "I can't help it, I'm like that cat from the meme, staring at all the lights with giant eyes." France giggled.

"That's so cute! You can say the cutest things, love." He said and kissed him on the mouth.  
Russia pulled back, shocked.

"What, what are you doing?!" He almost yelled. France seemed startled by this reaction.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" Russia took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

"The kiss. Why would you do that?" France just looked at him as if he was completely crazy.

"I... don't understand? Can't I kiss my own husband?" He was visibly confused.  
Ivan felt his head spinning. He grabbed his temples, trying to make sense of the situation. Husband... of course. Why would he be surprised? They were... after all... married.  
They even put up that Christmas tree together just two days before. He remembered it after all. He remembered everything. But just a moment ago, when France kissed him, he didn't remember. Instead, he... remembered something else. But now he wasn't sure what. It was like a dream he was aware of just minutes before was now rapidly slipping from his mind. He tried to grab it, but it was impossible. Moments later he had no idea what he was even trying to remember in the first place.

"I'm sorry, rosebud, I have no idea what came over me." He pecked France on the lips. "I was thinking about something else... my head hurts."

"It's okay, it's probably to stuffy in here. Tons of people showed up, no? You should go to the terrace, take a breath of fresh air." France's voice was bright and clean and always managed to calm him down. Russia found himself relaxing at least somewhat. Still, he went for the terrace. Some fresh air could do him only good.

The air was cold and smelled like freshly fallen snow. France's garden looked like taken out of a fairy tale: a beautiful landscape of trees and flower bushes now covered with a thick blanket of snow. Ivan rested his hands on the cold railing and breathed in.

"A little to crowdy in there, huh?" He heard a familiar, raspy voice. The word that came to Ivan's mind was 'smokey', it was a smokey voice, and Russia was surprised when a bolt of pleasure went through his body the moment he heard it. He turned around and saw Prussia standing nonchalantly against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Next to him lay an ashtray and it was obvious from its content that it was not his first one this evening.

"Indeed. Hello Bundeswehr. We haven't seen each other in a while."

"Yeah well, you know. Armies don't get invited to all those boring ass Nation events. Can't say I'm devastated by the loss." Answered Prussia as he blew a puff of smoke.

"But you are here today. So you got an invitation?"

"Hm. France though poor little old me shouldn't be left alone for Christmas." Prussia smiled in that crooked, weirdly predatory way of his and Russia found that not exactly pretty smile to be quite stunning. He tried to remember when he last saw Prussia but it was difficult to place it. He left for the west after the Berlin Wall fell, and he no longer represented the GDR... then he became the Bundeswehr, but Russia had no reason to see him since that time. They no longer had any business together. He only saw Germany now.  
And now he stood in front of him, looking very un-Christmasy in his black attire and combats boots that clashed horribly with his suit pants. It was quite endearing.  
"How have you been? We haven't talked in a while." Russia asked. Gilbert pushed himself away from the wall and came over to him, taking another deep drag of the cigarette with a thoughtful expression.

"Fine, I guess. It's... different. Not being a Nation anymore. It was hard at first, but I think I'm fine now. Got used to new responsibilities pretty quick. And you?"

"I'm fine too. Things are sometimes tricky. But I have a couple of days off thanks to the holidays, so I'm not complaining. Francis and I will be going to one of my dachas tomorrow, for skiing."

"Oh, that sounds cool." Prussia looked onto the winter landscape, sucking on his cigarette almost like he was about to eat it. "I'm not taking days off for Christmas. No point, there's always more work to do anyway." Russia frowned.

"That doesn't sound good. You need to relax from time to time. What was that saying you Germans have? There's time for schnapps and there's time for work." He recited in German. "It doesn't work if there is not schnapps-time, right?"  
Prussia looked at him for a moment, clearly surprised, and then barked out a loud, unexpected laugh.

"Your German if fucking terrible, Russland!" he was obviously in a better mood now. "But yeah, I guess you have a point. I just don't have much to do during my free time." The moment he said that, he grimaced, almost, as if he said to much.

"Never mind." He added quickly. Silence fell.

"So...." Prussia took another drag.

"So..." Repeated Russia, feeling the awkwardness rise. He could just excuse himself from the conversation, but to his own surprise he really didn't want to. He racked his brain, thinking: what could he even talk about with this man he hasn't spoken to in years? But that smokey, raspy voice... He wasn't ready to stop listening to it.

"How do your new responsibilities differ from the Nation ones?" He asked, deciding that work was the safest topic.

"They are less versatile." Answered Gilbert, examining the tip of his cigarette without interest. "Almost no international politics, education, health, economy... West takes care of that stuff. But it's not so bad either, I have the army, air force and the navy, so there's something to do all the time. I pretty much live in the Bendlerblock or the Hardhöhe." He laughed dryly. Russia couldn't help but feel a little worried.

"But enough about me, even though that is the best conversation topic there can be." Only now Prussia stopped examining his cigarette, now half-burned, and looked up at Russia. The ignited tobacco reflected in his pale eyes giving them an intense, fiery glow. "Tell me something interesting about yourself. How are things with France? Other people's romantic drama is always compelling." Russia laughed at that.

"Oh yes, you always did like drama."

"Sure I do, I eat it up like currywurst. Come on then, entertain me."

"Things with France are... " He needed to stop here and really think. How WERE things with France, actually? He found himself at a loss. They were happy, of course. It was a perfectly good relationship. They went on romantic dates, as they both loved the atmosphere, and enjoyed each others' company, especially when they could indulge in shared hobbies, like art or ballet.  
Ivan thought he was perfectly happy with how things were. Until just now, until that strange yet intense surge of pleasure he felt just from hearing Prussia's voice. He tried to remember if France, any part of France, ever made him feel like that. To his dismay, he couldn't remember even one instance of that happening. That realization made him deeply uncomfortable.

"...Fine." He ended the sentence lamely. Prussia rolled his eyes and groaned.

"Wow you are the worst conversationalist ever, Russland. Come on, spill the tea. His breath smells in the morning, right? Like cheese? Something, anything here, I'm so bored." Ivan knew he probably shouldn't laugh at that, but he did anyway.

"Sorry I'm not providing the appropriate level of entertainment. I'll try harder," he promised. "A Russian, a German and a Pole..." Prussia barked with loud, sharp laughter.

"Are you serious right now?!"

"You ask for entertainment, you shall receive. So the three of them are kidnapped by the Devil, who takes them on an airplane."

"Damn, that escalated quickly." Snickered Prussia.

"The Devil tells them: 'I'll blindfold you and then you have to guess if we are flying over your country. The one that guesses right can go free.’ The German goes first. He thinks hard and then says, 'We are over Germany now!' but he is wrong and the Devil kills him. Then the Russian. He thinks even longer, tries to somewhat feel the aura of his glorious motherland." Prussia rolled his eyes but still reminded quiet, trying to hide his smile. "'We are over Russia now'! Says the Russian, but he is also wrong, and the Devil kills him. Then it's time for the Pole. He puts one arm, the one he's wearing his watch on, through the plane's open window."

"You do know that's highly illogical, right?" Interrupted Prussia. "The air pressure would..."

"Just let me tell the damn joke!"

"Okay, okay! Hell. So, the Pole puts his hand with the watch on outside the plane. Then what?"

"He pulls his hand back inside and sees his watch is gone. He says, 'We are above Poland now!' and he is right!"  
Prussia laughed so loudly someone on the other side of the window, in the living room, looked in their direction.

"I loved that!" He said, still grinning like crazy.

"I thought you might." Russia smiled. "The funny part is that it's actually a polish joke. Feliks told me himself."  
Gilbert's laugh made him feel strangely light and happy, like he was just a bit tipsy, but he didn't drink enough yet.

"It's starting to snow, we probably should go inside." Prussia noticed after he calmed down.

"Yeah, probably." Russia observed a large, puffy snowflake travel very slowly from the sky and then land right on Prussia's bleach-blond hair. They were already powdered with a thin layer of snow. "Let me help you with this before we come inside." He leaned in - honestly a lot closer than he needed to - and gently flicked the snow away.  
The moment he moved closer, he felt a sharp scent of iron and gunpowder coming from Prussia's skin. The smell was intense and almost unpleasant, so incredibly different than the sweet smell of lilies that came off of France's body. It was invigorating and Russia found himself inhaling deeply.

"I like your smell." Be blurted out before he had the chance to think. Then he felt his cheeks and ears heat up. What the hell was he thinking?!  
If Prussia found the comment inappropriate, he hid it behind a crooked smile.

"Thanks. It's Hugo Boss. If you like it, you could get it for France." Only now did Ivan feel the musky smell of perfume somewhere below the iron and the gunpowder. It was quite heavy, and he was surprised he haven't felt it before.

"Yes, ma-maybe I will." He stuttered and took a quick step back. He hoped his blush wasn't obvious in the dim light coming from the house, or that Prussia would at least think it was from the cold.

They went inside, but even though taking a breath of fresh air was supposed to make Russia feel more clear-headed, he just felt like he was going crazy again. His heart was beating fast in his chest, and he felt fluttering in his stomach so intense, it almost made him feel sick. He couldn't remember when last being close to France had this effect on him.  
He started to slowly realize that it may have never had. It only took a couple of minutes with Prussia to make him feel like a lovestruck fool. What was wrong with him? He and Francis were married... well, for years! Their relationship started ages ago, in the 18th century, during that one ball in Paris. He asked France to dance a musette with him, that was the beginning of their courtship.

Musette! It was playing again. The exact same piece. He looked around France's living room. It was huge, and there was enough room to dance even with the oversized Christmas tree placed in the middle of it. Some Nations were already dancing: Hungary and Ukraine went first, both very graceful, with Elizabeta leading skillfully. Then Switzerland asked his little sister, Lichtenstein, to dance, and she squealed with glee. Others were joining them quickly. Russia went around the room, looking for his husband and ended up finding him next to the wine bar - where else? - talking to Prussia. They looked like night and day, Francis in his glittering, flowery three-piece suit and Gilbert, in his heavy Martens and a high-collar suit that looked more like a Totenkopf hussar uniform than a modern suit.  
Russia hesitated. He came here to ask his husband for a dance. That was after all what one was supposed to do - and yet now he wasn't so sure about it. He stood there, rooted to the floor, and felt a wave of chaotic thoughts, emotions and desires well up and clash right into his poor, weary mind. Everything during this joyous, pretty party felt WRONG to him.  
He began approaching them and it felt like time was slowing down, every step seemed to take ages and cross unspeakable distance. When he walked so incredibly, unnaturally slowly, his eyes began to play tricks on him. The fancy, embroidered suit France wore seemed to turn powdery pink for a fleeting second, silver buttons on Gilbert's coat flickered out of existence to be replaced with a row of glossy military medals.  
The strange hallucination diapered as quickly as it began and Ivan found himself standing in front of the two men, with a musette playing in the background. Prussia and France both stopped talking and looked at him with curiosity. Russia took a deep breath.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked Prussia, offering him an arm. He ignored the surprised, irritated look on France's face. He felt vaguely guilty, but it just didn't seem important right now. Gilbert visibly hesitated and then slowly nodded. He took his hand, and they walked onto the improvised dance floor.  
Russia moved his arms around Prussia's shoulders, and they began the dance. Ivan looked at his companion, really taking in all his features: all the sharp lines of his face, the incredibly light blue eyes that looked like two pools of frozen water. But there was color there, at the bottom of the irises, a flicker of red and purple that took his breath away and made his heart beat even faster. Blood was pumping in his hears so loudly he could barely make out the music.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier," said Prussia, "When I yelled at you because of the stupid shirt. I was an asshole."

"That's okay, I know you hate being late. And I shouldn't have called you a robot. I was an asshole too." Prussia laughed sharply, his frosty eyes filling with warmth.

"Yeah, turns out we are both jackasses. What a pair."

"Yes, we are." Russia snickered. "But you are the worse one, just to be clear."

"Gee thanks, what a charmer you are." Prussia grimaced, but there were little sparkles of laughter shimmering in his eyes.

They danced for a moment is silence. The musette ended and some contemporary slow song began. They moved in closer and Prussia put his head on Russia's arm.

"About before..." Started Prussia again, snuggling his face into Russia's neck. "You think I look better than France, right?" Ivan scoffed.

"Seriously?"

"It sounded like you didn't." Prussia didn't sound angry, more like he was pouting. "Am I better dressed than him?"

"Dear God, no one in this room is better dressed than him." Answered Ivan. "He's FRANCE, Luis Vuitton probably darns his socks!" He felt a puff of hot air on his neck when Prussia laughed.

"Yeah sure, but you know what I mean." He stood straighter and looked at Russia with surprising seriousness. Self-consciousness was not something Ivan saw often on him and it didn't fit him at all.

"I know what you mean. I think you look better than anyone in this room or anywhere." He answered, making sure to look him in the eye so there were no doubts about his sincerity. Prussia smiled brightly with new confidence and the smile seemed to lit up the room and Ivan's heart. "Good, if you said something else I would have to shoot you."

"Lucky me, surviving yet another day of this marriage." They both laughed. After they calmed down, Gilbert snuggled to him again and muttered, sending soft vibrations down his neck.

"I don't wanna be mushy or anything. You know that shit's not for me. But I love you, Vanka." Russia pressed his nose into his hair and inhaled.

"Hmm. Have I told you recently that you smell great?" He asked. Prussia hesitated for a moment.

"No, not really. It's that Hugo Boss you got me for my birthday."

"No... I don't mean the perfume. I mean you." Russia felt a heavy pressure on his heart. The last hour of the party seemed fuzzy and he felt like he was slowly waking up from a dream. A dream he didn't remember, but he was sure it wasn't a good one. Intense emotions were welling up in his chest. He pulled Gilbert in, covering his mouth with a kiss. He tasted like cigarettes.

"I love you too, Gilya." He whispered. "Merry Christmas."

**Author's Note:**

> HetaliaXmas, December 24: Any Prompt


End file.
